Dragonheart
by XFlare
Summary: A Percy Jackson oneshot. Snippets from a certain dragon's point of view.


A/N: First Fic! Um... Yay?

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and his buddies. Or Zoë Nightshade. Or Ladon.

* * *

_**Dragonheart**_

_A tale of simple love, unwittingly doomed._

* * *

The tiny, bronze-scaled reptile snuggled into the warmth. He felt a light caress ghosting over his ridged back in a soothing repetition.

The small creature fell asleep to a gentle, melodic lullaby.

_(Sleep, little one.)_

* * *

The multi-headed dragon soon realised his name. _Ladon._

He also knew of the girl who cared for him. _Zoë. _

The other funny (cold) people (almost nothing) like the girl... _Hesperides._

Everyone else?

_Food. Enemy. Don't let them touch the tree, don't let them touch the shiny apples._

* * *

He saw the funny people looming over the littlest funny girl- _Zoë._

One of the funny people waved a pale limb harshly, and hit Zoë.

Zoë fell back, onto the ground.

_The funny people hurt Zoë? _

_The funny people hurt ZOË._

_The funny people HURT Zoë._

_ThE FUNNY PEOPLE... were ENEMIES._

The small dragon lunged forward, hissing and snapping. He had no fire, but he had claws and fangs.

The funny people scattered, screaming.

Ow. High noise hurt.

He turned to Zoë, flattening his ears and nosing her side gently. _Is Zoë okay?_

Zoë hugged him.

Zoë was okay.

* * *

Ladon was waiting for Zoë to feed him lunch.

A mean man came (with a white pin didn't Zoë have a white pin?), and hit him until he couldn't move from the pain. Ladon trembled in newfound fear, and not much could make him scared now. Zoë had said he was getting big. He was bigger than her now.

He waited for her to come back.

She never did, and Ladon secretly cried himself to sleep that night, golden tears winding down his snout.

(Not that anyone cared. He was a _dragon. _Dragons weren't supposed to have hearts.)

* * *

Time passed.

He'd killed many who'd tried to steal from the tree. He'd wounded many more. Blood permanently stained his fangs, his claws, his scales. He had a battle scar slashed the length of his back from someone that got lucky.

He had retaliated in kind, carving a huge gash in the man's back and snapping off his head with his razor sharp teeth.

He never forgot Zoë, snapping at the cold ones who fed him, who were never as warm as the first.

* * *

There was something going on on the top of the mountain. Something important. He could feel it.

* * *

"Ladon! Wake!"

He stirred, blinking at the blurry blobs who had scared the cold ones away. He scented sea salt, lightning and moonlight.

Demigods and Hunters, then.

A silver one stepped forward, and he oriented on her. Would she approach the tree? If she did she would die at my claws or fangs.

The other two went round. They did not go near the tree. He ignored them.

"It's me, my little dragon. Zoë has come back."

He shifted confusedly. _It can't be. Zoë should be older. Zoë should smell like _Zoë, _not moonlight and liquid silver._

"I used to feed thee by hand. Do you still like lamb's meat?"

_No, no it can't be liar liAR LIAR_

He narrowed his eyes and lunged. The silver one (not Zoë) dodged his first bite. And the second. And the next fifteen.

"No! Run!" The silver one's head turned sharply, she was not looking at him, she was vulnerable.

He bit into her side in her moment of distraction, and she cried out.

The lightning girl uncovered a hideous shield, and he recoiled from its visage.

They ran up, up to the top of the mountain. He saw the silver girl clutch her side once.

Poisoned, then.

The cold ones sang their icy song, and he settled back under the tree.

* * *

A strange metal _thing_ swooped through the sky, spitting more metal to disintegrate monsters.

Then the silver hunting goddess flew away with the ones who had run up the mountain.

Silvery dust swirled into the sky. A new constellation formed, a huntress.

It seemed familiar... and it reminded him of Zoë.

He curled round the tree and dreamed of the girl returning to him, with caresses and warmth.

* * *

A/N: Poor Ladon.

Reviews are VERY, VERY welcome!


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